Sebastian Gloom

War in Heaven

     Gloom became aware that the entire army of damned souls was looking at him, and he was astonished to realise that they seemed to have adopted him as their leader, giving him an army many times greater than that of Genghis Khan. “We can't just go on and leave them behind us,” he said. “They could go back, retrace our steps and free Netzach. We have to capture them. Take them with us as we go on.”

     “Or we could stay here, just stand guard over them,” suggested a damned soul from the crowd gathered behind him. “We've done enough. We could stay here, make our homes here. We'll make sure that lot don't get up to any mischief.” Murmurs of agreement came from around him.

     “You would be welcome,” agreed Father Anthony. “Heaven welcomes you.” Cheers answered him, along with scattered applause.

     “No,” said Gloom though, recognising what the priest was trying to do. “The war isn’t over. The others might need us. We have to go on, and that means we have to defeat them. All of you with weapons, gather here.” About a hundred souls armed with captured swords and spears came forward to stand before him. So few, thought Gloom. Will they be enough? They have to be.

     “We'll charge that group there,” he said, indicating the nearest circle of defenders, who were watching them anxiously. “Every one of us is the equal of a dozen of them. You saw how easily I defeated him.” He indicated the priest. “The rest of you, follow behind us. Pick up any weapons they drop. When we’ve defeated them, every one of them must be guarded. Don't allow any more of them to slip away.” He was thinking of the blessed souls who'd run away to the north earlier. Were they even now trying to slip around them to where Sammael was holding Netzach? They shouldn't have left him alone, he realised. Not out of sentimentality, just out of common military sense.

     An idea came to him and he went over to the group who'd clapped and cheered earlier. “I want you to go back to Sammael. Guard him. Make sure no blessed souls try to attack him. You can make your homes there, so long as you look after Sammael as well.”

     That cheered them up, and fully half of his army turned to go back the way they'd come. That left Gloom with the half most eager to fight, which suited him just fine.

     “I need you to look after this bastard,” he said to Benson, indicating the priest. “Don't let him get away.”

     “My place is by your side,” protested his former manservant.

     “I need him guarded by someone I can trust. Will you do that for me? Please?”

     “You never need to say please to me. You can trust me, master.”

     “And you never need to call me master.” He clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned to his army and lifted his sword. “Ready?” They cheered back at him. “Let's do it!”

     He led the charge towards the gathered defenders, who tensed up fearfully to meet them. For a moment he thought they might scatter and run, but they held firm and thrust with their weapons a  moment before they collided in a crash of flesh and steel. Gloom swung his sword with all his strength and it batted away the weapons of the defenders as if they were sticks of bamboo before slicing through the first three men. Their steel armour parted like cotton and blood sprayed from their bodies as they were cut to the spine. He swung again and again, leaving more of them writhing in agony at his bare feet, but then he was in amongst them and being attacked from the sides and behind. He felt his body being pierced by weapons and it was his turn to fall as he lost control of his limbs.

      He lay there waiting for his body to heal, watching the battle taking place over him. More of his men fell, but ten times the number of defenders were cut down, and as they fell their weapons were snatched up by damned souls who added to the slaughter. As soon as Gloom's body was healed enough he stood again, searched about for a weapon and rejoined the fight. Within minutes it was over. A thousand of his men now had weapons and he detailed men to guard the prisoners before leading the attack on the next group of defenders.